Secondary Paradise
by ThatWhichIsUnsound
Summary: Not SN or Sci-Fi. Many POVs of what it would be like if Keitaro died before Love Hina Again. R+R!!


Disclaimer: I don't have any slight idea what obscure japanese company owns the rights to Love Hina, but I have never, ever been a part of them, so Love Hina doesn't belong to me. I wish I could own Motoko, though.  
  
This is my first-ever Love Hina fanfic, and it's certainly dark and broody for the most part, but I plan to make it a bit more humorous and light-hearted later. PLEASE Read and Review! If I don't get Review feedback, it sort of defeats the whole purpose of publishing on a peer-review writing site, doesn't it?  
  
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Keitaro Urashima, Dead. This is the first thing that inhabited the minds of the Hinata-Sou residents that morning. Every one of them had a different perspective, a different view, and a different reason to mourn. But all of them, every single one, was shedding tears.  
  
Keitaro was, to eliminate suspense, not actually dead. But in his room a red stain on the carpet and a gun that had recently been fired did exist. Keitaro, after the incident with the parakara Island, was in the lowest of the emotional lows he had ever been in. Narusegawa had been still innocent acting towards him, she betrayed nothing, and as was her usual style, beat the crap out of him for any misfortunate accident he might have. He sat, the night before, looking at the gun on the ground before him. This gun, it had been a present from seta-san, he said that it might make Keitaro be a little more manly. Keitaro had accepted only because he did not want to displease Seta, but he had never, ever considered using it before that night. That day had been hell. He had spilt the cleaning agent on the ground in the hall, and it had gotten under shinobu's door and was started to bleach the edge of her carpet. He had knocked and asked her to come out while he cleaned it up. Rag in hand, shinobu out in the living room, keitaro had started cleaning. Naru, like a devil come to claim a soul, rose from fire, it seemed to, accuse keitaro of being voyeuristic and a dirty hentai. She had, in Naru style, launched him through shinobu's roof, and he landed on a mountain, as usual.  
  
On the long walk back, he had started to reflect. Over the pain of what had to be some broken ribs he though to himself.  
  
"If Narusegawa does this to me one more time, I'm liable to sustain mortal wounds. I'm getting close to feeling like a 80 year old boxer and I should be feeling like a 20-something student. This is getting ridiculous. She blows up at me for no good reason, she's ambiguous in the way she acts towards me and she still has not given me any response to what I said to her last Christmas. It used to be, that when she walked into a room, Naru lit it up like a million candles, but now…..Now she is pale, and grey. But the Hinata-sou still shines with light. I have loads of girls waiting for me there. And, of course, they all hate me too. Motoko chan, who would have cut me in half the first day if Naru hadn't stopped her. Some days I wish she hadn't."  
  
He went on like this for quite some thing, and as more and more time passed, he sank deeper and deeper.  
  
3 a.m.: The only light in the house is coming from a small desk-light in his room. Keitaro is holding seta's gun, running his thumb up the diamond-shaped patterns on the revolver's handle, the texture almost exactly the say as the realistic toy guns he played with sometimes as a child. He is quietly sobbing, and he holds the gun to the side of his head.  
  
"What does a man….no, a child, like myself, mean to this world? I have no intelligence, I have failed four times to keep a promise I made as a young, young child. I am worthless. And I can't do this….this is too much for me…I'm too scared to even pull the trigger, I am pathetic."  
  
Keitaro sobs and lays his head down on the desk, lowering his arm. There is the sound of a gunshot. Keitaro screams in pain, and looks at his bleeding arm. Keitaro is out, running down the street and shouting before any of the girls even ventured to check his room. The emergency room hung stale and stagnant, and moved with what Haitani could only think of as frantic slowness. Haitani, during his nightly woman pick-up drive had come across Keitaro, who's arm had been hit by the gun's accidental discharge.   
  
Everybody rushed, and still very little seemed to get done. With the waiting line, release and insurance forms, and the likely hood that keitaro was going to need to be drugged made Haitani doubt wether they would even get back to the inn in two days.  
  
The first one awake had been Motoko, she had been awake and her sword out almost exactly when the gun had gone off, giving credit to her warrior's senses. She had looked into all of the rooms, checking on the groggily waking Hinata-Sou residents, to make sure none of them were hurt. The last room she checked was Keitaro's. There was a red stain, and warm gun, and nothing else. 


End file.
